Tied Up My Hands
by suddengust
Summary: not like that! this is a postep to 'The Ticket'focusing on Josh and Donna


Inspired by Starsailor, a criminally underated band and their song " Tied up my hands". I urge you to check it out.

Anyway this is about those moments in life where you have a million and one things to say but nothing comes out and life passes by.

I own only myself, how very pretentious and philosophical of me!

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Wipe the make up from your face 

_Tie your hair and gently fall from grace_

It had been a defining moment, looking back at it as she did now, sitting on the cold tiles of her bathroom floor, she knew that. She'd known as she'd made the appointment and as she had sat their watching everyone rush around her, waiting for a moment of his time.

She'd known it was a spectacularly important moment, which was why she hadn't slept last night, rehearsing what she would say to him, how she would convince him. She knew all this and yet she'd never expected him to say no.

"Stupid, naïve……." She berated herself for her foolishness, for the fact that he'd made her cry. She'd imagined herself to be a professional, hardened to the realities of a life in politics, but those illusions had been shattered today.

She hadn't been back to work, the thought of watching Will wander around the office with that false smile, proclaiming everything was fine was too much to take. Sitting around and waiting for the administration to end was nobody's idea of fun, they'd all been devastated at the convention, Will especially.

Apart from her, she'd never invested in the same way the others had, and when the votes were counted there was no emotional rollercoaster, just a feeling of relief, of a burden lifted, one she hadn't even realised existed.

She supposed that that was when she decided or assumed she'd end up working for Santos. Oh God, she'd have to go back tomorrow, go back to pretending she cared, filling up her day with meaningless tasks and ….oh even worse, what if word got back to them? Poor Will, she didn't think he could take her trying to jump ship now.

The tears came slowly and silently again. Why did he have to put her in this position? She honestly wasn't sure if she was more annoyed at him or herself for this whole tangled web of things unsaid and deafening silences; hadn't it been the most natural thing in the world once, that seemed like an age ago.

She had to leave. He couldn't still blame her, although he probably did. He hadn't left her any choice, she had to move on. He was too professional for this to be retribution, but she couldn't help but wonder, if somewhere in the back of his mind…… She didn't want to think about it anymore, the confusing mess of her life which had lead her to this place at this time. But as she well knew, she couldn't help herself.

So there she sat in her clean, cold bathroom, in her silent, empty apartment as the darkness of night crept over floor analysing everything that he had said and everything he hadn't. And when she'd finished, and had cried all she could, all anyone could, she washed the mascara that had run off her face, down the sink, tied her hair up and decided to check out the jobs section in the paper. She could at least find herself a job without him she could do that, couldn't she?

God, she wished he would just call.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

I wanna love you but my hands are tied 

_I wanna stay here but I've been denied _

_Let's watch the clock until the morning sun does rise_

He looked at his watch and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to wake himself, it was past 11 and he still had a pile of stuff waiting to be done on his desk. He smiled remembering how she told the story of their anniversary, that he'd welcomed her back by telling her there was a pile of work on his desk.

He sighed as he stood up and started pacing, snapping himself out of his reverie. He'd been doing it all day, since her appointment, going over what had happened, remembering their past, sentimentalising a relationship he may well have killed. He hated himself for having to disappoint her, embarrass her, for intruding on her illusion that all could be as it once could.

As much as he hated himself though, he preferred thinking about that compared to the anger he felt towards her. She had left. And now, when she'd made it impossible for herself she'd come back, asking him for something he couldn't give. Surely she knew that. He had a campaign to run, he couldn't let this interfere.

And yet his thoughts continued to wander in circles, he wanted to solve this, every problem has a solution, right? He sat back down physically and emotionally exhausted, wondering if she hated him, if she'd cried at what he'd said or if they were so distant now that she didn't even care.

He hadn't meant to tell her that he'd missed her, it came out without any thought, he hadn't had much practice repressing what he wanted to say to her of late, at one time it had been second nature. Her reaction had been unexpected, he'd wanted to let her know if he could he would but…….

He wanted to resolve this gaping hole that had formed between them, but he'd given up that chance today and as he admitted it to himself a wave of sadness engulfed him. He should call her, he wanted to, but he had no idea what he would say, what she wanted to hear. He wanted so many things, but instead he sat and stared blankly at the wall across from him until the office began to fill up with people again. He should go see her, or call her but he knew his hands were tied, so he'd wait until they were free and figure out what to do then. He'd have a chance to, she'd give him that chance wouldn't she?


End file.
